


rushing back

by viviansternwood



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviansternwood/pseuds/viviansternwood
Summary: Can we not rewrite our history, if we find it disagreeable?OR: based on a prompt: months after Charlotte leaves Sanditon, Sidney sees her at a ball in London.





	rushing back

**Author's Note:**

> Is this fic just a whole lot of wish fulfilment? Maybe so. Do I regret anything? Indeed I do not.

Had Sidney known of Charlotte’s arrival in London, he would have chosen to return to Sanditon and miss the Season altogether.

At the very least, he thought, he would not have made an appearance at any ball where he would have stood a chance of seeing her. But it was too late now, for he was already in the great room of Almack’s, Eliza by his side, and both of them watched the couples finishing off a set of quadrille, Charlotte amongst them. From the far end of the room, where he stood, he could barely see her, but he knew it was her. Under all the layers of finery that embellished her now, it was still _her_.

The quadrille ended, and a waltz began, which Charlotte, unsurprisingly easily finding a new partner, joined.

Under the pretext of getting them both some punch, he left Eliza to discuss the latest gossip with one of her acquaintances, and made his way through the crowd towards the other end of the room. From there, he had a better view, and was at the same time concealed from her notice in part by those standing in front of him. So he stood, and observed.

Seeing her was like a gut punch, and all the feelings that he had hoped to have buried somewhere far, far on the outskirts of his soul, — they all came rushing back.

Charlotte had left Sanditon four months ago, and was unchanged yet different in every way. She wore a silver gown, and looked more than beautiful — perfect, even, — but he longed to see her the way she had been in Sanditon: provincial-looking in her simple yet becoming dresses, with her flowing hair tangling in the wind. There had been something endearing about that, and it had made her appear sweet and approachable, but now she was one of the ladies of the beau monde. She was whirled in a waltz by her partner, all elegant and composed, her occasional smile charming the man out of his wits. Sidney had no doubt about that, for who could withstand Charlotte’s smile?

She did not appear unhappy, and something about that unsettled Sidney. He had always known her heart would eventually forget him, for, next to her, he was nothing. Next to her kind, open, brave and loving heart, sweet disposition and beauty, he had nothing to recommend him. She was everything he was not. And, although she was the love of his life, he knew that she would love again. And yet, seeing that with his own eyes proved to be much more painful than merely knowing it to be the case.

He had to be just, though, for in truth, he had not spent every waking hour since their parting drowning himself in tears. There was, however, a constant ache somewhere in his breast that, no matter what he did, would never go away. He didn’t expect it to — he deserved to suffer all the consequences of it, for daring to give his heart to someone in the first place. Except this time, his heart was broken as a result of his own actions, not of the one he gave it to.

No, that was quite enough, he thought, and quitted his lamenting in favour of procuring two glasses of punch and returning to his fiancée. Eliza met him with a displeased countenance:

“Whatever kept you so long? Well, no matter,” her habit of never letting him answer her own questions would probably be the cause of his demise. “I’m sure you remember Lady Susan Worcester? We were so fortunate as to meet her at Sanditon’s Annual Regatta?” she said, and Sidney turned his head to pay attention to the woman standing next to his intended. He nodded. Of course, he would wager that this was Charlotte’s sponsor this Season.

“Lady Worcester,” he bowed.

“Mr Parker. How are you finding the ball?”

Her tone of voice was perfectly polite, but the look in her eyes betrayed displeasure. She knew what had gone on in Sanditon after her leave, and she did not have a good opinion of him. He was glad he wasn’t the sort to care.

“An excellent ball indeed,” Eliza said in his stead, not surprising Sidney in the least, but making Lady Worcester’s brow fly up in half amusement, half astonishment, before she resumed a composed countenance. “Even if I had not a chance to stand up for a dance yet.”

“That is a pity indeed,” Lady Worcester said in a tone that made it clear she did not mean it. “I am sure Mr Parker will be delighted to dance the next set with you.”

Sidney nodded politely, wishing he could be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Then, Lady Worcester said the words that made his heart sink. “Ah, Charlotte,” she smiled and looked behind him. Sidney stepped aside to face the approaching couple: Charlotte and a man who was dressed and carried himself as though he was, at the very least, a duke. “Did Lord Yarmouth recommend himself as a satisfactory dance partner?”

Sidney felt Eliza’s hand on his forearm, possessively claiming his presence. Charlotte, paying no attention to him or Eliza, looked up into the face of her partner with a sweet smile, “More than satisfactory, Susan.”

“How glad I am! Well, you already know everyone present, but, Lord Yarmouth, allow me to introduce to you Mrs Eliza Campion,” Eliza curtsied, “and Mr Sidney Parker.”

“A pleasure,” the man said, and Sidney was surprised at his own antipathy, for he had never before detested someone he had just met.

“Mr Parker, Mrs Campion,” Charlotte curtsied prettily, without looking Sidney directly in the eye. They returned the greeting. “Mr Parker’s brother is the gentleman behind the project of Sanditon,” she explained to Lord Yarmouth, who nodded knowingly.

“Ah, Sanditon. It seems that little town is all everyone talks about nowadays. The ton can scarcely wait for July, to see it, and try their luck at restoring their health there.”

“It is a lovely town indeed, I spent a most wonderful summer Season there,” Charlotte shared, and met Sidney’s eyes for the first time. She did not look at him the way she used to, open and unguarded, her heart in her gaze. She looked polite and distant, as though shielding herself from the world, but most of all from him. She gazed up at her companion again. “I even had the pleasure to play a game of cricket for gentlemen’s team!” she suddenly added with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and everyone except Sidney laughed (Eliza’s laugh very polite and impersonal).

“Well, what else can recommend Sanditon more than the prospect of playing cricket with the lovely Miss Heywood?” Lord Yarmouth answered, charming and confident.

“You are too kind,” she smiled.

Sidney watched her speak those words, and remembered how it had felt kissing her. How she had kissed him back as though his lips were the only thing keeping her alive. How, when he had broken the kiss, she had searched his mouth for more. He would never get a chance to kiss her again, or to hold her again, or to speak to her about things other than polite small talk.

It was then that he realised he had not uttered a word from the moment of Charlotte’s arrival, and he felt foolish. Her heart had healed; he was engaged to Eliza. He had no right to think of her that way — any way, really. He couldn’t stay there any longer. It hurt too much.

“Are you engaged for the next set, Miss Heywood?” Lord Yarmouth inquired.

“Let us consult Charlotte’s dance card,” Lady Worcester, who had been holding it, it appeared, suggested helpfully. She passed it to Charlotte, who stated that she had not been engaged for the next set, and would be happy to oblige Lord Yarmouth. A beaming smile bloomed on the man’s face, and Sidney’s heart felt hollow.

This was what his life was going to be like, now and forever. Eliza would beg him to attend all the balls where he would see Charlotte in the presence of rich, powerful and handsome men. Men who could easily marry her and make her happy, give her the life she wanted and deserved. Men who would get to enjoy her smiles, her wit and her love. Who would get to kiss and caress her, and would never be foolish enough to let her go.

What had he done?..

He felt an all-consuming grief and pain rising inside, threatening to suffocate him. “Excuse me,” he managed to say somehow and, before long, he was freeing his forearm of Eliza’s hand and walking away.

He knew not how long he stood at an empty balcony, wishing he were dead, instead of living the nightmare that his life had become. Two dance sets ran their course at the very least, and then he was joined by a dear friend.

“Babington,” he greeted him, managing to smile despite himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Esther wanted to attend. I was hesitant, but then I saw both your and Miss Heywood’s names in the book, and wanted to see how you were faring.”

“How kind of you,” pursing his lips, remarked Sidney.

“I am sorry this is happening to you, my friend,” Babington said, his eyes full of genuine sympathy. “Would I could help you in some way.”

“You could kill me?” He, however, saw that his jest was not taken well, and asked: “And where is Lady Babington herself?”

Babington looked down before responding. “She chanced upon Miss Heywood.”

“Ah,” was all Sidney could respond. The discomfort of this conversation was starting to irritate him, so he said, “I should like to be on my own for some time, if that is alright? Would you entertain Eliza for now?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Babington left, and Sidney felt like he could breathe again. He bore no ill will against his friend for finding so much happiness in his marriage (and a happy marriage it was indeed, for one needed only to witness Lord and Lady Babington sharing a look amongst themselves to see how connected they were), but sometimes Babington’s attention was even more suffocating than the grief he carried in his heart.

“Mr Parker,” he heard, and thought he was dreaming, for it couldn’t _really_ be Charlotte. But, having turned to see, he found that it was her indeed.

“Miss Heywood.”

She appeared self-conscious, and very uncomfortable, but the same look of polite indifference still in her eyes. How he hated it. “Do forgive me,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “Had I known you were going to be here, I would not have let Susan talk me into attending.”

“You needn’t avoid me, if only for your sake.”

“Do I not?”

“No,” he sighed. “I continue to hope that you do not have a poor opinion of me.”

“Not at all. It’s only… your reaction to me, when—”

“I know,” he said. “Forgive me. The mere sight of you still causes me pain, but that needn’t concern you. You have every right to enjoy yourself at any ball you wish to attend, regardless of my presence or lack thereof.”

She stepped closer to him, unsettling and taking the breath away from him at the same time.

“The sight of me causes you pain?” she asked, looking at him, her face hopeful.

He chuckled, bemused despite himself, and shook his head. He wondered how she could not know this. “Of course. My feelings for you have not changed.”

Then, the unexpected happened. Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears, and despite her best efforts, spilled onto her cheeks. Sidney could have sworn that his heart stopped right there and then. “Charlotte?” he asked, quiet and meek, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

She covered her face with her gloved hand, so unladylike in her misery, as she sobbed.

“Charlotte,” he repeated. “It wasn’t— I did not mean to offend you, please forgive—”

She did not let him finish, for she shook her head and, still crying, took the collar of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss. He could taste her tears as she kissed him, and for a moment he thought that if someone were to walk by, they would see, and then it all would be over for her, but she was kissing him, and that was his only care in the world at that moment.

They parted, and she sobbed some more, before she was able to say, “It is the same for me. My feelings have not changed.”

He was astonished, for he was _certain_ that her heart had moved on.

“Why are you marrying _her_?” she asked, desperate, and still crying, and he could do nothing but look at her as it dawned on him that she had been just as unhappy, just as miserable as him this entire time. This changed everything. His own heartbreak he could have lived with, but he would not live another day knowing of her unhappiness.

Sidney took her hands. “I shan’t.”

Her sobs quieted enough for her to look at him, her eyes shining with tears, about to spill, and looking at him in earnest, like she had back when he had given her the news that broke her heart. “What?”

“I shall _not_ marry her, Charlotte. I won’t do it,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Tom arrives in town tomorrow, and I will go and inform him, and then I will break off my engagement with her. This will all be over. I promise you, Charlotte.”

Sidney thought he could tell the moment she had chosen to believe him, for the look in her eyes changed from pained hope to happiness. She beamed at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks. He wiped them with his thumbs. “I love you,” he told her. “Hold onto that, and do not let go.”

She nodded once again, in that feverish and disbelieving way of hers, and stood on her toes to kiss him once more. “I love you too.”

“I shall call on you tomorrow,” Sidney said, “once all is over. And we shall talk.”

“Alright. I will go now, before anyone notices I have been missing long.”

Charlotte was about to leave, but he took her hand and pulled her in for one last soft kiss. “I love you,” he told her once again, just because he could now, and because he wanted her to never doubt that, to wake up and go to sleep knowing that, “you are it for me.”

She gave him that beautiful smile he had missed for the last four months, and said, “I love you, too. Remember that. Wherever you go, whatever you do, my love is with you.”

With that, she left, and, for the first time in months, Sidney felt alive again.

***

“Mrs Campion will not be financing the restoration of Sanditon any longer.”

“I do not understand—” Mary was the first to say, rising from her seat on the settee, next to her husband.

“I am going to break off the engagement,” Sidney explained. “It is over.”

“Why?” his brother asked.

“Because I do not wish to marry her.”

“Sidney!” Tom cried in indignation, rising to his feet as well. “What on earth are you thinking? This family will be in ruin! How could you be so selfish?”

Sidney’s eyes widened in astonishment. “_I_ am the one being selfish? Might I remind you, that you needed the money because of your own shortcoming? Had you insured the project, all would have been fine.”

“And I have told you, I understand my guilt in it, and live with the consequences!”

“No, _I_ am the one who is being forced to live with the consequences!” Sidney cried. “I love Charlotte! I was going to propose to her at Sanditon’s summer ball—”

“Charlotte Heywood?” Tom asked, confusion on his face.

“Yes, _that_ Charlotte indeed!” Sidney attempted to compose himself. “We love each other. And Charlotte is the one whom I will marry. I shan’t sacrifice my happiness to save you from your mistakes.”

Tom was quiet, watching his brother with a look of wounded pride. Sidney was starting to feel guilty about speaking to him like this, and about abandoning him at the time of need, but the thought of Charlotte brightened his spirits. _Wherever you go, whatever you do, my love is with you_, she had told him. She had made him the best version of himself, and that man fought for his happiness instead of bending to his brother’s every whim.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” was all he could say, for there was no fault of hers in any of this.

There was a look of sadness in her eyes, but it was almost overshadowed by pride in him, and, despite everything, a smile was on her lips. “Go to her, Sidney. And be happy,” was all she said and, after giving her an affectionate hug, he turned to leave.

“I’m sorry, Tom. But it is time for you to take responsibility for your own mistakes,” was the last thing he said before walking out of the room.

***

Eliza was furious. Her eyes darkened, an angry blush appeared on her cheeks, and she pursed her lips in irritation.

“I cannot believe you, Sidney. What will people say? What will your family say?”

Sidney huffed, not having the strength to be tired of her, “If you consider me the type of person who cares for opinion of others’, you do not know me at all.”

“You certainly used to care for my opinion!”

“Perhaps. Ten years ago, but no longer.”

“Sidney—”

“No, Eliza. I do not love you. I am sorry, but this engagement is over.”

“Sidney!”

“I wish you every happiness.”

Saying those words to her felt strange, for, the last time he had said that, it had been to Charlotte, and he had felt as though his heart was being ripped from his chest. Now, however, these words were setting him free.

He left Eliza Campion in her elegant drawing room, and hoped he would never have more than a polite small talk of a conversation with her again.

***

He called at 26, Grosvenor Square, at four o’clock that day (having come straight from Eliza), and was informed by the butler that Lady Worcester herself was out and would not be back for another hour, but that her guest, Miss Heywood, was retired with a headache, and was not to be disturbed.

“Please, inform her of my arrival. I insist. I am sure she shall want to see me."

The butler pursed his lips in indignation, but uttered not a word of protest, and disappeared in the long corridor. After a minute or two, Sidney was shown into a confined drawing room, the windows of which overlooked North Audley Street. He waited patiently, and then Charlotte walked in, looking healthy and cheerful and absolutely beautiful. He was delighted to see that her hair was down: her wonderful, unruly curls free of any restriction.

“Charlotte!” he said, almost jumping to his feet, as he took her hands and looked down into her eyes. “Are you well? I was told you had a headache.”

She smiled, looking at him warmly. “Yes, I am very well indeed. I only had to feign a headache, for Susan would insist I should join her for her dress fitting.”

“Oh? So you lied to your dear friend? For me?” he smiled, so she would know it is all merely a jest, but her smile became soft, almost indulgent.

“Yes. Anything for you, Sidney.”

_You are the same man_, he now remembered her say, back when he had started what he had thought would be the most important conversation of his life, _but much improved_.

_You are the same man_, she had said, as though she had meant it as a compliment.

Sidney did not know why Charlotte loved him, for he felt he would never deserve her. But, having experienced what losing her feels like, he would not let her go. She chose him, so he would spend every day of his life making her happy and proving himself worthy of her love, if he had to. He would do anything, as long as he was by her side.

“Dear Charlotte,” he said in a solemnly sincere tone, and saw her light up just like she had at Sanditon’s summer ball. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world,” he looked down into her beautiful eyes, hoping she knew he meant every single word, “and do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Her breathing quickened, her eyes big and brown, looking all over his face, and she said, “Yes.”

That response was everything to him, and he felt moisture gather in his eyes, his emotions so strong that he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time (or maybe start dancing? He didn’t know). But most of all, he wanted to kiss her. So he did, and she responded with such fervency and enthusiasm that Sidney thought it was impossible that he should get to have this. To be with _her_. Now, he couldn’t believe he had agreed to marrying Eliza in the first place. Nothing in the world was worth not spending the rest of his life with Charlotte. His heart was singing.

Charlotte’s lips left his, and she said softly, “Come this way.”

He followed her, his hand in hers, his brow furrowed, but did not ask questions. They crossed two rooms, and then a short corridor, to arrive in a private study, full of books and dark mahogany surfaces. She led him towards the settee and pushed lightly on his chest, willing him to take a seat. He did as she wanted.

“This is the only room with a lock,” she informed him as she made use of said lock and ensured their complete privacy.

Charlotte looked brave and confident, and _happy_ as she walked over to him and, gathering her skirts, straddled him. He wanted to keep that look on her face forever. Her hands touched his face in the way his had touched hers the night before, when he had wiped tears off her cheeks. She was looking at him with such reverence that his heart could hardly contain itself within the confinement of his breast.

“You know,” she said, her hand sliding down his neck and onto his silk-clad shoulder. She laughed softly when she realised he still wasn’t touching her — and he wasn’t, for everything was to be done at her pace, and hers only — and, taking hold of his hands, placed them on her thighs. “You know,” she repeated, her hands returning to brushing over his shoulders, “I have not told you this yet, but you managed to confess your love for me in the most romantic fashion. You exceeded all expectations in that regard.”

He smiled and slid his hands up her thighs gently, caressing more than anything. “Last night? At the ball?”

She shook her head, and leaned closer, her nose lightly touching his, “No. In Sanditon, in Tom’s study.”

He frowned, confused.

“_I am my best self — my truest self — when I’m with you_,” she quoted, and his heart almost stopped at that. “What love confession could be more beautiful than that?” Charlotte mused, pressing a light kiss to his cheekbone.

“I felt like an utter fool when I said that,” Sidney admitted. “I thought you knew how I felt about you already, and you didn’t feel the same. But I just had to say it.”

“And I am glad you did. You made me the happiest woman in the world, Sidney Parker.”

She moved in her spot slightly, effectively grinding down onto him (consciously or not) and all the seriousness and solemnity evaporated from his mind. “Charlotte,” he ground out.

“I want you to take me,” she said. “As a man takes his wife.”

He shook his head. “No. You would be ruined. I shan’t take your virtue, Charlotte—”

She kissed him to stop him talking. Then, she looked him in the eyes and said, “I waited four months for this, Sidney. For _you_. I do not want to wait any longer. Please,” she added, as though she ever needed to beg him for this.

He looked at her mouth, all red and swollen from kissing him. Then, as quick and as sudden as possible, he picked her up and flipped them over, so she was on her back under him on the settee. She let out a peal of laughter, her elbows on his shoulders, her hands in his hair.

He kissed her soft, beautiful neck, “Have I told you before,” he asked, listening to her breath hitch, “that I love it when your beautiful hair is down?”

“It never looks as it ought to,” she complained half-heartedly in a strained voice, breathing faster and more intensely.

“It’s perfect. _You_ are perfect, in every way,” he told her.

She kissed him, and there was not much talking after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and please, review! 
> 
> Be sure to find me [on tumblr](https://viviansternwood.tumblr.com/).


End file.
